


What Remains

by microlm



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-08-24 09:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16637024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/microlm/pseuds/microlm
Summary: With the passing of her parents, seven year old Cordelia became the head of House Ravus. Since the time the gods walked the realm, the household had existed to guard the dragonstones. Her father had done so until his end, but she had failed before she could even understand that the duty had passed onto her.





	1. Myths

**Author's Note:**

> This has heavy end game spoilers from the final dungeon.

This was the first story she remembered being told. It was the same story that her father remembered being told, and his father before him.

 

* * *

 

When the god Galdera turned against the others and strove to take all the power of the heavens for himself, Aelfric lead the remaining gods against him. The war against Galdera embroiled the land of Feiren where his worship had once been the strongest, but his cruelty lead the kingdom to turn against him. Even one who bore his blood, Odin Crossford, abandoned Galdera and sought tutelage under the archmagus god, Dreisang.

The war waged for many years, but united, the twelve gods overwhelmed Galdera. Aelfric tore an opening between the realm of the mortals and the realm of the gods and cast Galdera within. Aelfric's flames bound Galdera, and Odin Crossford used the powers contained within four stones to seal away the realm.

The stones were the keys to Galdera's prison, and what they locked they could unlock as well. Yet the same power contained within them that allowed them to seal a god also prevented any god from destroying it.

The jail door would forever remain in the land where Aelfric had first created the tear between realms, and the keys to opening them could never be destroyed.

The second prince of Feiren, Beowulf, was given the unenviable task of guarding it all.

He founded the kingdom of Hornburg on the lands, and prayed that Galdera would remain safely sealed even after the departure of the gods.

But the war had cost the people too much. Some perished in the battle against Galdera, others in the famines born by the bloodied fields that refused to nurture crops, or the plagues brought by the diseased rats that grew fat off the corpses.

The boundaries between the world of the living and the world of the dead grew thin as numerous souls made their journey to the other side.

From the land in between, Galdera cast out his voice. He beckoned from his prison, whispering into the ear of the mourners, all too willing to listen. _They are right here, with me_ , he would say. _Open the gate, and let them through. Let them go home._

The gods did what they could with their remaining time in the realm.

Aelfric spread his flames to warm the hearts of men and quiet Galdera's voice. Dohter healed those around her. Sealticge danced and brought a moment's joy.

But for beings who did not know death, there was little they could do to stop the tide of death and the ensuing despair from the swallowing the fragile creatures who knew it intimately.

And so Galdera's whisperings grew louder.

They gnawed at King Beowulf night and day. Some nights, when silence fell in his castle, he could hear the voices of his wife and firstborn intertwined with Galdera's.

The four stones. Keys to the gate that with each passing day, he desired more and more to throw open.

At last, when he could hardly bear it any longer, he called his knights before him.

The stones could not remain in Hornburg. They had to be taken far, far away, until even Galdera's voice died in the wind.

The knights leapt at the chance of guarding the treasures, each claiming their strength could overcome any foe who tried to wrest the stones from them. But in their eyes, King Beowulf saw the same desperate desire that he knew was in his own. His gaze fell away from the knights that squabbled for his attention.

A single knight stood rigidly at the wall, eyes determinedly averted from the commotion. A thin reed of a man, young and hardly grown into the old armor that he wore. A knight from a small household, whose family name Beowulf could not recall.

Beowulf called out to him. "What say you?"

The knights before Beowulf stilled, and the lone knight grew stiller yet. Beowulf waited for an answer.

The silence grew and settled like dust. Finally, the lone knight spoke. "I can hardly help the living and barely keep back the dead. I lack the strength to guard the stones."

"Oh?" Beowulf narrowed his eyes. The other knights' eyes shined bright with desire for control of the stones, but the lone knight's lacked any luster. "Rather than lacking in strength, it seems that you fear them."

The lone knight swallowed. "I do. Forgive my cowardice."

" _I_ do not lack in bravery!" someone cried, and the squabbling began anew.

Beowulf had already made his decision.

That night, Beowulf approached the man to force upon him the very task that he had dreaded. Again, the man refused. He wasn't capable enough. He lacked the power in both ability and influence. He lacked the will to keep Galdera's whisperings from his head--

"There is no one who can ignore Galdera's voice, but there are few who still have the will to fear it," said Beowulf. The man stilled. "The power that you speak of can be given to you easily enough. The wisdom of how to use it does not come so naturally." Beowulf bowed low. "Please, you are the only one I can ask."

The man was silent for a long time after that, but at last, he gave his word that he would do as Beowulf requested.

The man was to leave Hornburg in secret and take the stones with him to a faraway land. Not even his family was to know of his departure, and not even he knew of his destination. Best to have no plans, Beowulf had said, and simply let fate take him where it may.

On the evening of his departure, he had slipped away and expected no one to see him off. To his surprise, twelve figures waited with Beowulf by the roadside.

The gods. The man flung himself to the ground, scarcely daring to gaze upon them. One of the goddesses scoffed. _This_ was the one who was to be guardian of the seals after their departure?

The man could say nothing. He felt even less assured than the gods.

The same goddess laughed at his silence and hauled the man back to his feet. "If you're lacking, then I suppose we'll have to make up for it," the goddess said. "To you I grant this boon: whatever war may cross the path of your household, one who bears your blood will always survive."

One by one, the gods granted their boons. Aeber swore that no thief who stole in his name would ever be able to steal the stones. Bifelgan blessed the man with good fortune and for wealth to find its way to his household. Dohter promised that even the worst of plagues would spare at least one child.

The man stared, awe forcing his silence. He was working up a will to thank the gods when Aelfric approached. The lightbringer. The leader of the gods. The man had the urge to bow low yet again, but Aelfric spoke first.

"I'm sorry," Aelfric said. The man jolted, a stutter of _no need_ falling from his lips. The gods had already given him so many blessings, there was nothing else that he could ask for--

"No. Truly, I am," continued the god. "Hundreds, thousands of years from now, perhaps even we will be forgotten and the strength of ours gifts as weak as the memories of our existence. Yet even then, this duty will be bound to your bloodline. Whatever gifts we may give you, there will come a day when this seems more a curse than a blessing. In those times, keep faith and I promise you this: there will always be someone who will extend you a hand in your time of need."

The last gift came from Beowulf: a name. One that suited the duty that he was to carry out. Caught somewhere between the light of this world and the darkness that laid beyond the gate. Ravus.

And so the first of the Ravus family left Hornburg.

Time passed and history drifted to myth. Fact became embellished by the bards who sang their tales. The mythical stones became the dragonstones, the prison the fabled Gate of Finis, and King Beowulf more legend than man.

And whispered among the Ravus family halls was their own place in the legends.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Cordelia wondered who the first Ravus had been, before he had been chosen. Was his family still in Hornburg? Had that branch survived through the years? If Beowulf had chosen otherwise, what would she be called then?

But in the end, whoever the man was, it was not a detail that would be remembered.

Galdera. The Gate of Finis. The dragonstones.  Whoever he _was_ , he had no part to play in that story; only a Ravus did. Only that name mattered. All other details would be scrubbed away.

Just as her father was. After a mere 10 years, the details of the previous Ravus were already growing fuzzy. Cordelia could no longer be certain of the timber of his voice, of whether or not the paintings had captured him accurately. She couldn't recall more than snatches of disjointed moments, all covered in a hazy quality that made her unsure if she had half dreamt them.

All she could remember with clarity were the stories he told her. The myths. The stuff of legends. They told her who she was. Not Cordelia, but a Ravus.

And house Ravus only existed for one reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could obsess over the main characters, or I could obsess over the ones on the side.


	2. Legacy

Cordelia had been seven years old when the memories of her parents stopped, but she could remember the last one with clarity.

They had been in Grandport on a rare family vacation, and Cordelia had taken to being away from the manor like a fish to water. She had even made a friend with a local girl and spent day after day pretending to be an adventurer in the widest of oceans and the deepest of caves.

It was the day of their departure from Grandport, and Cordelia was throwing a fit as she whined piteously to her mother and father.

"Pleeeeease," she begged, clasping her mother skirts. "Just one more day. Noa said her father's bought the newest set of _Ancient Capitals_ and she said they have the _nicest_ drawings in them! The merchant will be here tomorrow night! Can't we stay till then?"

"Rather than looking at pictures, you should have a look at the real things at home," her father said with a roll of his eyes. "I'm sure we have one or two of the things that book mentions--"

"But the pictures are _prettier_!" she pouted. "And you said last week we weren't leaving until....until…" She counted on her fingers. "3--no, 4 days from now!"

"Plans change, Cordelia," said her mother, hands gently cupping Cordelia's face. "We have much to do, and we will only barely make it back in time leaving now. Why don't you save it for next time--"

"Next time won't be for a thousand years!" cried Cordelia. "We _never_ go anywhere like this together."

"That's an exaggeration--"

Cordelia gave a _hmmph_ and crossed her arms. "Then when?"

Her father sighed. "Well...it could be...awhile…"

"Excuse me…"

Cordelia glanced over at the butler, eyes glimmering with hope. "Yes! Excuse Heathcote!"

Her father's mouth twitched in a barely suppressed smile.  "What is it?"

Heathcote gave a slight bow. "It is rare for Lady Cordelia to get the opportunity to visit Grandport after all, and this departure is a earlier than intended. If I may, I'd like to suggest that I stay with Lady Cordelia in Grandport for the remaining days. We will return the manor separately."

"That sounds like more trouble than it's worth for you," said her father.

"Not at all," Heathcote said. "It'd be much easier than wrangling her into the carriages right now."

"I don't know if we should travel separately," her mother said, frowning.

Seeing that her mother was a lost cause, Cordelia turned to her father instead, eyes wide and hands clasped. "Please! I'll do double--no, triple!--lessons every day!"

"There's not enough time in a day for triple lessons," her father said seriously, but she caught the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Just one more push. "I'll work the next day too," she said with equal seriousness.

From beside her, she heard mother sigh. "My, looks like Cordelia will be winning her way this time, won't she?"

"Afraid so," her father sighed back.

Cordelia beamed and threw her arms around her father's legs. "Thank you! Thank you!"

"You behave and listen to Heathcote," her father said, patting her head. "And no more extensions, so finish all your business with little Miss Wyndham. We'll see you back at Bolderfall, Cordelia."

With that, the packing finished. She threw her arms around her mother and father's necks and pressed a kiss to each of their cheeks as they boarded the carriage. Cordelia waved with both arms. She saw her father's arm waving back from a carriage window, and her mother's head peeking out from her side of the carriage. The carriage shrank into the distance and that was that.

The merchant came the next night, just as Noa's father had said. The pictures in the book _were_ the nicest, just as Noa had claimed. Cordelia and Heathcote stayed only four more days before starting the journey back home, just as they had promised.

There was only one part that didn't happen as it should have.

She arrived back at the manor to a confused household who wondered where the lord and lady were if Cordelia had returned alone. She remembered Heathcote barking orders, and how a few days later, news reached the manor of a broken carriage at the bottom of a ravine.

 

* * *

 

The funeral arrangements took two weeks to prepare, and given the condition of the bodies, it was closed casket. For both those things, Cordelia was grateful.

The weeks gave her enough time to cry until she her desire to had faded into a dull ache, and the closed casket service meant she would not have to stare at what remained of her parents' faces as she helped lead their last rites. She could pretend she was holding it together, just as the head of the household should.

But she was never all that good at pretending.

Her hands shook and she nearly dropped the flame used to light the twelve candles that began the service. When it came time to cut her mother's bridal cloth in two, she couldn't stop herself from thinking how all the runes sewn on the cloth had done nothing to keep death at bay.

She heard the priest beside her continuing with the prayer, but his voice was distant in her ears. _May that which protected you in life guide you safely beyond the darkness of the between and into the light where the gods await you._ She choked back a bitter laugh. Her fingers felt clumsy as she dragged her mother's half of what had been her bridal cloth over her casket.

She wanted her mother to sneak in with a slice of cake just as she was getting too bored with lessons. She wanted her father at her bedside to tell her a story until her eyes were too tired to remain open.

She wanted to scream.

Instead she swallowed it and finished her part of the ceremony.

She stood there as the priest droned on, biting her lips to keep her mouth shut tight. The prayers became white noise, and the numbness spread from her head to tips of her toes. Finally, the priest finished, and the mourners echoed back the closing prayer. The noise sounded thunderous to Cordelia's ears. For the first time, she lifted her head to look at the mourners that had gathered.

The room was large enough to be used as a ballroom, and even so there were enough mourners that the doors had been thrown open to accommodate the overflow. She had never seen this many gather in the manor.

Cordelia felt her eyes sting.

Her mother and father had largely kept to themselves, and rarely traveled or invited guests. Yet it was as Aelfric had promised in the legends. So many had come from far and wide in their time of need. The bridal cloth had failed to protect them in life, but with so many praying for their safe passage, Cordelia was certain that they would reach the other side.

 

* * *

 

In the days following the burial, mourners continued to arrive, each wanting to offer their condolences. Cordelia's head spun as she tried to remember who each person was, and even with Heathcote at her side whispering names into her ear, she struggled to recognize them.

But she was grateful for their presence. Ravus manor had never had many residents. The number of people employed had been the absolute minimum to keep the manor running, and among them only Heathcote lived in the manor. The maids and cooks left after dinner. The guards were there in constant rotation, but remained outside of the manor.

In the past, her mother and father were enough to fill the manor, but now the hollowness seemed to echo off the walls and amplify itself until it became unbearable.

It was even worse when night fell and the silence grew deeper still. Her ears rung and she would slip out of bed to wander the halls, stopping at the doors to the guest rooms to listen to the soft snoring from whoever had come to pay their respects that day.

At times she would fall asleep at the doorway, and she would stir to Heathcote carrying her back to her room. His steps and presence were always so faint that she would only be jostled awake when he tucked her back into bed.

Once, she watched him draw away and settle into his usual chair where he would wait until she had fallen back asleep. In the dim light, the shadows cast harshly on his features and suddenly Cordelia felt that he was quite old.

"Sorry, Heathcote," Cordelia said, voice quiet and crackling from sleepiness.

Heathcote smiled. Somehow it just made him look even more tired. "No need to be, m'lady. Get some rest."

Cordelia shut her eyes tight. Even with him by her bedside, she couldn't hear him at all. He had no presence, as if he had disappeared.

Her eyes flew open. Heathcote was still sitting there. He turned to see her staring up at him and chuckled. "Sleep," he said, reaching out to pat her head. It was warm and gentle and even as her eyes fluttered close, Cordelia knew that he was there.

 

* * *

 

Business deals. Trade agreements. Development plans.

Cordelia had been vaguely aware of what duties her mother and father had performed, but she had barely began her education under her tutors the previous year.  She remembered her mother saying that six was too early for a child to begin their education, but now Cordelia desperately wished she had begun earlier. Heathcote did his best, but he confessed that he had never dealt with that aspect of house Ravus.

Her parents' friends had all patted her head and reassured her. They would take care of it all until she was old enough to understand.

Then once they finished the arrangements with her, they would leave.

They had already pulled the time to comfort her and help her with the various loose ends that her parents had left behind. Even so, she wanted to whine and hug their legs and beg them to stay.

But she wasn't Cordelia anymore, she was the lady of the house, and she had never seen her mother throw a tantrum.

She knew--she _knew_ \--but it wasn't enough. The unending stream of temporary faces, no matter how nice and comforting, wasn't enough. Noa's letters filled with cheerful, distracting fun weren't enough. Even Heathcote wasn't enough. How could he be when he was being run ragged himself.

So again and again, she found herself wandering the manor halls when the silence grew too deep.

One night, it wasn't Heathcote who found her dozed off in front of a doorway.

"Cordelia? Why are you sleeping in such a place?"

Cordelia sat upright so quickly that colors flashed in her eyes. She rubbed at them to clear her vision. For a brief second she thought she saw her father's face and her heart skipped a beat, but her vision cleared and she saw that it was a woman staring down at her with a frown. "A-aunt Goneril...I…"

"Go back to bed before you catch a cold," Goneril said.

Obediently, Cordelia bolted to her feet. Again, she was too quick, and combined with the grogginess of sleep, her legs buckled and she fell back down to the floor. She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment and her eyes were too weighed down by shame to look up when she heard Goneril sigh.

"Up, child." There was a rustling of cloth and then Cordelia felt herself being lifted up and tucked against Goneril's shoulder. "My, you _have_ gotten bigger since I last saw you."

"Just a little bit…" Goneril's steps weren't as steady Heathcote's and she constantly adjusted her hold on Cordelia, but Cordelia made no attempts to walk on her own.

"Now why were you sleeping on the floor like that? Hardly a proper thing to do. Amused as he would have been, I doubt my brother would have approved."

Her father would've lectured her for hours, Cordelia thought, but his eyes would've been gleaming with laughter the entire time.

"Cordelia?"

"I…" All her reasons felt so childish, but perhaps that was fine among family. She swallowed. "I just felt lonely," she muttered.

Goneril laughed. "You should have come in then. I wouldn't have minded."

Cordelia smiled against Goneril's shoulder. Yes, perhaps a little childishness was fine.  "Aunt Goneril, will you visit me?"

The walking stopped. "...do you want me to?"

Cordelia pursed her lips, suddenly feeling shy again. After a moment, she managed to nod.

"Well then." The walking continued. "If it is a request from the lady of the house I can hardly refuse."

That night, Cordelia slept soundly, more at ease than she had been in over a month. In the morning, she saw Goneril off with a light heart, and returned to face the day's mourners in as good cheer as could be expected from such a thing.

Then among the sea of ever changing faces, Heathcote slipped beside her and pulled her aside. His face was pale and his jaw clenched and Cordelia already dreaded what he would say.

The dragonstones had been stolen.

Cordelia stared blankly. She could vaguely hear Heathcote calling her name, but he sounded impossibly distant.

A Ravus only existed to guard the dragonstones. From the first Ravus to her father, they had done so until their ends. But she had failed before it had even sunk in that the duty had been passed onto her.

 

* * *

 

Over half of the guard was purged. From what Cordelia could gather from the snippets of confessions she managed to overhear before someone shooed her away, no one had seen the mastermind behind the theft themselves despite being co-conspirators. They had all described different people, and with the constant flow of people in and out of the manor, there were too many to track down and question.

Some guards were more innocent, having simply taken small bribes to overlook things that seemed insignificant at the time. Others confessed that they had known their actions would weaken security, but the money had been too good to refuse.

All were released from their duties by the captain of the guard.

Cordelia had half believed that the questioning would end with the arrest of the thieves, but weeks turned into months, and the dragonstones remained missing.

She was the head of house Ravus. This was her responsibility. She had to be able to do something, if she simply tried harder. Even when laid in bed, her mind raced and her body would eventually match its restlessness. She wandered the halls of the manor, steps and mind circling round and round, arriving nowhere.

Heathcote would always find her. "Please, m'lady, I will search for the dragonestones," he said warily. "Your father had always left me to deal with such matters. Believe me. I am doing everything I can."

She hated that. She hated that she could not help Heathcote in what was her duty. She hated that she had to give the burden of managing the estate to others, while she still sat with tutors like the child she was.

She poured her restlessness into her lessons and her tutors praised her progress.

The praise rang hollow. If she were older, if she were more competent, if she were more like her father…

But she wasn't, and she couldn't accomplish a single thing as the head of House Ravus.

Everyone around her knew it, she was sure of that. The kind people who had agreed to advise her on the estate took care to slowly explain what Cordelia should do to maintain the household. Heathcote met with people behind closed doors, filtering the news in hopes that she would be calmed if she only heard the good.

Even so, Heathcote couldn't keep everything from her. She became good at quietly shuffling down the manor halls and discovered the best spots for eavesdropping.

It was a quiet evening when a man in blue and a merchant feather came to see Heathcote. To sell wares, he had told Cordelia when she asked. "I have a lovely doll from Noblecourt if it would interest you," he said with a smile.

Cordelia shook her head. Heathcote came in soon afterwards to lead the man away. After a few minutes, Cordelia followed and pressed her ears against the door.

"--hart has news?" Heathcote. There was a questioning tone to his voice that told her he hadn't expected the man.

"No, listen. House Azelhart has fallen."

"... _what?_ "

Cordelia bit her lips. She had only vague knowledge, but her father had spoken highly of them.

"The lord of the house was murdered just five days ago. His daughter has disappeared. I had but a day before I set off for Bolderfall so I don't have many details yet, but from what I've been able to gather, the Obsidians orchestrated it all."

"How certain are you?"

"A few days before his passing, he informed me that one of his spies within the Obsidians had been killed. An eyewitness saw men in black leave Azalhart manor, and spotted a black tattoo on one of their necks, although they couldn't make out what it was. Put that together, and I'm fairly certain."

"Did Lord Azalhart tell you anything else?"

"No. He failed to find any indication that the dragonstones were with the Obsidians. He did discover that they were searching for something called the Gate of Finis if you believe that's worth looking into."

"No, I don't believe that's necessary," Heathcote said quickly.

Silence fell and for a time, all Cordelia heard was the sound of her heart pounding.

"...Master Heathcote, do you think the Obsidians were behind Lord Ravus' murder?"

Cordelia felt a rush of coldness sweep through her. _Murder_ . It had been an accident. It was _supposed_ to have been an accident.

"A possibility. But there are so many possibilities--"

She ran.

A Ravus only existed to guard the dragonstones. It was their duty until their end.

But it hadn't occurred to her until then that their duty would also lead to their end.

All Lord Azelhart had was a little bit of knowledge, and that had been enough to bring disaster to him and his household. How much knowledge was too much? Just knowing about the existence of the dragonstones? Knowing about the Gate of Finis?

The Gate of Finis. The thief had stolen all four stones. What if they weren't simply after the money, what if they knew--

She collided against something that felt like a person and the force sent her falling to the ground. Cordelia sat there in a daze until she was pulled up to her feet. Goneril's face suddenly appeared before her, filled with worry.

"Cordelia, what on earth--"

"Aunt Goneril, I'm scared."

"Of what?"

Of being killed. Of what was being done with the dragonstones. Of how badly she had failed. Of how badly she could continue to fail.

But she didn't manage to say any of that. The words choked in her throat, and all that came out were heaving gasps that turned into sobs that shook her entire frame.

Goneril pulled her close. "Shhh, it's alright," she soothed.

Cordelia never felt more like a child.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, Cordelia dreamed that she had been a good child and obediently left with her mother and father that day in Grandport. The sun shined, the carriage jostled along, and Cordelia closed her eyes against the light breeze.

Then the carriage driver would be devoured by a murder of crows and they would go tumbling from the cliffside.

Or men in black cloaks would materialize from the shadows and slit their throats one by one.

Regardless of how it happened, it always ended with her head dashed against the rocks, unable to move or look away as figures carried the dragonstones to a gate of bone. Something noxious would seep from the cracks of the gate, filling her and stabbing at her chest over and over again like a pounding heartbeat--

And then she awakened.

Cordelia sat up, head throbbing with a dull ache from exhaustion, but she had no desire to go back to sleep. She could hardly fall asleep, and when she did it would never last for long. This was probably exactly why Heathcote had tried to keep things from her, she thought.

If Aunt Goneril were here, Cordelia would knock on her door and sleep in the guest room for the night. Goneril had also been a Ravus once, and Cordelia's fears more understood. It was their secret that Cordelia knew. Heathcote took such great pains to give her peace of mind, at the very least she could let him believe that she had it.

But Aunt Goneril was in Atlasdam with her family. There would be no one in the guest room tonight, and no wandering unless she wished to spread her sleeplessness to Heathcote.

The shadows creeped and silence seeped, and her heart would not stop its pounding.

Cordelia took a deep breath and swung her legs over the edge of her bed. The stone chilled the soles of her feet as she walked over to the writing desk in the corner of the room. She lit a candle, and the warm light calmed her a little.

Noa's latest letter was opened on the desk, along with the beginnings of her response. Cordelia had gotten about as far as _Dear Noa_ before stopping. The candlelight danced over Noa's words.

_\--odd dream, Cordelia. There was a talking dog and you were cursed so you only walked backwards. I gave the dog lettuce and it got really big and let me ride on his back. Then he ran super fast across the ocean! It sounds boring when I write it like this so I wrote out the entire story for you!_

Cordelia let out a laugh and the silence became a little less daunting.

Within the ten pages of misadventures of Noa and her talking dog, the crow men and the gate of bone seemed distant, and the fear almost...silly. She was safe in Ravus manor and there were so many that wished her well.

With a smile, Cordelia picked up her pen and began to write.

 

* * *

 

It took two years before she noticed something strange.

Heathcote had thrown himself into the search for the dragonstones. Leads had to be followed, information organized, controlled, and delegated. Her father, Heathcote said, had long entrusted him as the spymaster of House Ravus.

It was Aunt Goneril who helped manage much of the day to day affairs of the manor while still taking care of the affairs of her own house. It was a farce really, in Cordelia's opinion. Aunt Goneril should have inherited the estate. But Aunt Gonerail had married into the Stewart family, and Cordelia was the only Ravus left.

In the beginning, it didn't seem that pressing that Cordelia lacked the experience necessary. It was as if it was just as the legends had said and Bifelgan had blessed the Ravus family with wealth and fortune. Rare and valuable items seemed to appear out of thin air and drop themselves into the manor's treasury, and the winds of fortune blew their way.

But that was only in the beginning. Although Cordelia didn't understand very much, she knew how to count, and she knew that the family fortunes were depleting. It was expected due to her inexperience. No deal was full proof, and her inability to act quickly to changes meant that she was always a step too late to prevent disaster from striking.

She had redoubled her efforts. Even more valuable than her tutors' lessons were the old ledgers and records that her parents had left behind. She poured through their contents, slowly parsing through the numbers and notes.

Then a strange picture emerged.

She had been told that the reconstruction project for the shelters in lower Bolderfall would cost forty million leaves, but no matter how she calculated the costs against the costs in the ledgers, she could not make the number grow past ten million.

She had been told to invest heavily in the wheat crops in Whispermill the previous year by a noble who resided there despite it being the year in the four year cycle her father's note marked as having poor turnout.

And now, a noble from Quarrycrest sat across the table from her, the usual warm smile upon his face, advising her to purchase a gold mine being sold.

"Morlock is selling it for practically nothing," he said. "The operation is already running smoothly, and there's plenty of workers in employment that would be happy to continue working after the ownership changes hands. This can help offset your loss from the iron mines."

Cordelia flinched. Those mines had unexpectedly run dry so quickly they hadn't even been worth a fraction of what she had paid for them.

"Ah, my apologies," the noble soothed. "I've checked thoroughly on your behalf, and I've confirmed that there are enough seams left in the mines to turn a profit."

He had gone through the trouble of doing all this for her, Cordelia thought. The iron mines were her own fault. They had to be.

But the mistakes piled up and the ugly picture that began to form could not be ignored. Cordelia kept her gaze down on her own tightly clasped hands. "Then why is it being sold?" she mumbled.

"Pardon?"

"Why is it being sold?" she repeated, louder.

"Ah," the noble jolted back. "W-well, Morlock feels rather badly about the iron mines. Consider this deal what you should've gotten out of the first one."

A part of her felt a stab of guilt for doubting his kindness.

The other part dug through her memories of the ledgers and recalled that her father had considered the mines in question five years ago. He concluded that the seams of gold remaining were in parts of the mountain too dangerous to venture without heavy casualties.

"Please give me a few days to consider."

 

* * *

 

Heathcote and Aunt Goneril turned pale when she brought the matter up. Heathcote quickly excused himself, and Aunt Goneril immediately asked to check against her father's ledgers.

"You're certain it was this mine?" Goneril said, eyes still staring at the journal's pages.

"Yes."

"P-perhaps...perhaps something's changed," said Goneril. "A new mining technique or…"

Cordelia gave her a weak smile. "Of course."

The next day, Heathcote received a report from Quarrycrest. Three miners had already died in an attempt to reach the gold seams, and all activity in the mine was suspended.

She had expected this, yet when the news came, she collapsed into a chair as if the ground had been swept out from under her. The room spun and she kept her eyes locked on the floor to steady herself enough to remain upright.

Heathcote squeezed her shoulder. "It's fortunate that you noticed."

"Indeed, to think you would remember a detail like that…" Goneril kneeled down and gently lifted Cordelia's head to meet her gaze. "Cordelia, you did everything you could."

"No," Cordelia said. "I didn't."

 

* * *

 

Something shifted that day.

It was all quite obvious once the first was confirmed. The money for shelters had been pocketed by the ones in charge of their construction. The lord who ran the granaries in Whispermill had used her money to offset their typical losses and then some during that off year.

The new schemes were all too easy to see. All she needed to do was propose some foolish deal that would give them stupid amounts of money and pretend she didn't understand what she was doing. Every time, she would beg silently, _please, please prove me wrong._ She would beg so strongly she was certain that it showed on her face.

She wasn't very good at pretending, and still they would fall over themselves in their rush to tell her that she was making a wonderful decision for house Ravus.

She knew in those moments just how much of a fool she was in their eyes. They never seemed to consider that she was simply laying the cheese in the trap.

Cordelia wondered how she had never seen how fake the smiles seemed, and how blatantly they were trying to trick her.

But she had tricked herself the most. There had been signs, but she had refused to acknowledge them until now. She had given their feeble lies unsurpassed strength by believing in them so ardently.

Trust, she found, was half denial.

 

* * *

 

Aunt Goneril went through all the past agreements and weeded out those who had knowingly lead Cordelia to poor decisions to siphon money from the Ravus estate. Heathcote's work doubled as he extended himself to gather hidden details about the suspicious proposals.

Things moved even more slowly. Even if what blew their way was Bifelgan's bounty and not ill intent, it was shut out all the same. Cordelia was tricked less, but fortune still slipped away. The money that remained struggled to maintain the information networks and upkeep Bolderfall.

Cordelia didn't know what to do. House Ravus existed to guard the dragonstones, but they also had their duty as a noble house of Bolderfall. Now, it seemed that the time was quickly approaching that she could only choose one.

That was when Goneril asked her about the money that Heathcote was using.

Heathcote had left the manor to follow a lead in Wellspring, and Goneril had decided to extend her stay to watch Cordelia until his return.

"Perhaps things have changed since I married," Goneril said. "But I don't recall nearly this much money being poured into the information network when my brother was alive."

Cordelia's heart skipped a beat. "Heathcote knows what he's doing. He handled this while father was alive as well."

"Is that what he told you?" Goneril frowned. "I find that hard to believe…"

Every part of her screamed to ignore it, to let Goneril's words stop there. But she didn't want to turn away anymore.

"Why?" Cordelia said quietly.

"To be left to handle the information networks means being privy to all secrets of house Ravus," said Goneril. "My brother wasn't that trusting even towards his own family, and we were raised knowing those secrets. Your mother was the only outsider he let in. I doubt that he would trust a thief."

For a moment, Cordelia forgot to breath. "A...thief…?"

Goneril's brows furrowed. "Did no one tell you how Heathcote was employed? He came to rob the manor and your father caught him in the act. I thought that he would turn Heathcote in, but instead he forced Heathcote to work for him." Her expression darkened. "I couldn't believe it. Heathcote even managed to run away for awhile, but I suppose my brother found some way to drag him back and make him stay. Nothing had happened all these years so I had thought that things were settled, but…"

But what if he had been nursing a grudge all these years.

Her father had been murdered, and after two years of searching the dragonstones were still lost. The one responsible for investigating both was a thief forced into servitude.

Heathcote wouldn't. The picture was too ugly to think about.

Trust was half denial, and Cordelia prayed that she wasn't willing away something awful.

 

* * *

 

The fall of Hornburg came from the blue.

It had been a long time since the first Ravus had left those lands. In that time, borders had been redrawn, dynasties rose and fell. There was little about it that was the same as the Hornburg of Beowulf's time. There was no reason for her to mourn its fall more than any other stranger would, but she felt the news like a stab in the chest.

In the past, depending on the nature of the new ruler, trouble could be stirred up if they sought the dragonstones.

That wasn't possible this time.

The castle was sacked, the villages and towns overrun by bandits. The fields were trampled and the earth became too damaged for life to sprout. No king would dare rise to claim such dead lands.

Hornburg had been completely destroyed.

Cordelia heard whispers from the maids and gardeners. It was completely senseless. No one had gained from this. But Cordelia wasn't sure they were right. The dragonstones had been stolen, and the Gate of Finis laid unprotected.

A creeping dread ran up her spine, and she couldn't help but feel that the worst was yet to come.

 

* * *

 

"You're wandering again."

Cordelia jolted. The world around her came back into focus and suddenly she was aware of how tired her legs felt.

The new moon made the night darker than usual and the hallways of Ravus manor all the more imposing. Even the candle that Heathcote held in his hands seemed dimmer. The light flickered on his face, and the shadows cast over him gave Heathcote an eerie look she couldn't shake.

"Come," he said, reaching out to take her hand.

The scene from her nightmare came back in full force then.

All four of them were in the carriage on the way back from Grandport. Cordelia, her mother, her father, and Heathcote. She could see Heathcote laughing along with one of father's jokes before metal glinted in the light and Heathcote cut her father's mirth right out of his throat.  

The dream where it always did: her head dashed upon the rocks. But now, she could see that the one who carried the dragonstones to the gate was Heathcote.

Cordelia snatched her hand away as if he had burned her. Immediately, she felt a pang of guilt from the stricken look on Heathcote's face.

"S-sorry," Cordelia said, but she closed her other hand over the one that Heathcote had tried to take.

 

* * *

 

_Dearest Cordelia,_

_Ah, your newest chapter had me at the edge of my seat! I had to have Gill sit up with me last night to fall asleep! Please please_ please _tell me that Felicia will make it out alive. Or write it so that she does. I can't stand to think what would happen if the ritual succeeds and all her blood is drained--ugh! I can already feel myself begging Gill to sit with me again tonight._

_In comparison, I think my story about the bard isn't nearly as interesting, but I'm glad you seem to enjoy it anyways! I worked hard on the new chapter, so please tell me what you think._

_Father will be holding another competition this year in at the Merchant's Fair. People are already gathering in the city. I've seen a new ship from with sails that's unlike anything other ship! The sails are like a fish fin and all stiff. They're not billowy at all. Father says that they're from far to the east of Orsterra. There's even traders from beyond the Great Desert south of Marsalim! I didn't even think it was possible to cross it. I wonder if they will be taking part in the competition...I hope they do. I bet they would have something interesting to show. Imagine that! Treasures from halfway around the world._

_Will you be coming to Grandport this year? It's already been four years since I saw you last._

_I'd love to see you again Cordelia. It would be such fun to wander the fair with you. Perhaps you could even compete! Between you and me, I'd pick you to win even if you entered your breakfast, although I suppose that would be rigging the competition…_

For the third time, Cordelia read through Noa's newest letter. Noa's whimsical stories were as cheering as ever, but the request to visit Grandport threw a splash of cold water on Cordelia's mood.

She had just sold off the Grandport property the previous month. The money it brought in would tide them over for now and provide the funds necessary to maintain both the information network and what was meant to go to Bolderfall, but Cordelia now had the new problem of where to acquire more money if they had yet another string of losses. Even if she wanted to, the manor would have no buyers. Compared to the megalopolis of Grandport where the wealthy flocked, Bolderfall was little more than a collection of ramshackle buildings.

Despite Goneril and Cordelia's efforts, they were still bleeding money. Despite Heathcote's efforts, they couldn't find the dragonstones. It was like fortune had abandoned House Ravus, or if not, then…

Cordelia shook herself. Not Heathcote. Aunt Goneril couldn't be right about him.

But if she would rather believe that Aunt Goneril was lying, then that would mean…

Again, Cordelia shook the thoughts from herself.

It felt like Noa was the one she was mosr honest with the most these days, and she couldn't even begin to tell Noa what happened in house Ravus. But at the very least, she could write her stories and indulge in losing herself Noa's letters for an hour or two without second guessing the intentions behind each sentence.

Cordelia read the letter a fourth time, considering how to reply. Finally, she carefully folded the letter and stowed it away in the wooden box sitting atop the desk.

_Dearest Noa,_

_I'm afraid I won't be able to visit you this year…_

 

* * *

 

The man who sat before her was thoroughly checked by Aunt Goneril. Cordelia could trust him.

But she didn't. She did her best to keep her face as serene as possible. The man continued to babble on with his proposal, oblivious to her thoughts. He didn't seem taken aback at all when she excused herself with some lie about wanting to check her own finances before committing.

She wondered when she became so good at pretending.

There were no obvious discrepancies in his proposal, but something felt off. Cordelia bit at her thumbs as she paced restlessly that night. Her mind spun to find the lie.

"M'lady?"

Cordelia flinched and her hands snapped to her sides. Heathcote stood on the other side of the hallway. He opened his mouth once, but it closed again without a word.

The silence stretched and twisted around them until Codelia felt that it would choke the breath from her.

It was always like that these days. Two questions always vied to be asked, but to ask one and not the other would mean she had picked a side to believe. Whenever she saw Heathcote, both go round and round until her tongue was tied to silence.

Cordelia's hands closed into fists. Tonight at least, she had decided who to bet on.

"Heathcote, can you go through the people that Aunt Goneril cleared?"

 

* * *

 

There were three criteria in picking who to use when laying the trap.

One: they had to have been expelled by Goneril.

Two: they had to have been connected to Goneril in the past.

Three: they had to be desperate.

Edmund Gloucester from Noblecourt fit all the criteria perfectly. The fall of House Azelhart had done House Gloucester no favors as he failed to maneuver in the new status quo. She had often heard one of the maids whisper in hushed tones in half delight half horror at the outbursts that her brother had to contend with as a butler to Gloucester. Too clever by half, the maid had said with a giggle, and too angry by double when things didn't pan out for him.

Cordelia herself remembered the scene he had made as the guard had dragged him from the manor the day that Goneril had told Cordelia to cut him off.

For the past three months, he had been pestering her with increasingly fervent requests for one more chance. Seeing his barely constrained anxiety and white knuckle grip on his knees, Cordelia felt certain she had made the right choice. The tension was high and he was the perfect spring.

"I understand, Lord Gloucester, but it is...difficult for me to give you an answer," Cordelia said with a frown.

Gloucester immediately glowered. "Whatever do you mean? This is highly beneficial--"

Cordelia shifted with feigned discomfort at his glare. "I-I'm not to certain of _why_ myself, but I was warned not to accept any offers from you."

"Warned?!" Gloucester stood. "Warned by who?"

"Th-that's....I don't think I should say…she wouldn't like it..."

"She?" his voice rose a pitch. "It was that aunt of yours wasn't it? Lady Stewart?"

"Eh?" Cordelia fluttered her lashes in confusion and let her mouth part slightly. "How--I...no it wasn't."

"She. You said she! Who else do you listen to so closely?" said Gloucester, a hint of triumph in his voice. "I know it was her. Tell me what she said!"

Internally, Cordelia sighed at how easily he was accepting her feigned innocence, but she supposed that was the advantage of being eleven. "The last deal…she said that it was a trap and that I shouldn't take it. I didn't want to believe it after all you had done for House Ravus in the past, but Aunt Goneril had helped me so much too."

Gloucester's face had paled then turned red with rage. "Oh? She said that did she? And what proof does she have?"

"I-I'm sorry." Cordelia dropped her gaze. "She said many things, but I couldn't quite understand. To be honest, that's why I wanted to accept your requests earlier...but Aunt Goneril was so against it. I finally made up my mind to see you, but I...I still don't want to go through with this without her approval."

When she chanced a glance upwards, Cordelia was pleased to note the white splotches of rage that dotted his red face.

"Her...approval? Why would you _need_ her approval?!" In two swift strides, Gloucester closed the gap between them until his shadow cast itself over Cordelia. "Lady Ravus, may I remind you that _you_ are the head of this household? You already understand that this is a highly lucrative proposal, there's no need!"

"B-but Aunt Goneril--"

"IS NOT HERE!" The room seemed to shake with the force of his voice. "So why don't you think for--"

"Who's not here?"

Instantly the sound died in Gloucester's throat, leaving his lips to open and close in silence like a dying fish. Goneril stood at the doorway, glaring.

"Aunt Goneril!" Cordelia leapt up and ran over to half hide behind Goneril's skirts.

Without taking her eyes off of Gloucester, Goneril patted Codelia's head. "I thought I heard you shouting, Lord Gloucester. Why are you here?"

Gloucester finally wrangled his mouth into closing and a sneer spread across his tightly pressed lips. "Lady Ravus agreed to see me."

Cordelia felt Goneril still. The glare shifted from Gloucester to her. It was gentler, but the edge was there all the same. "Cordelia, is that true?"

"I'm sorry, he wrote so many times, I couldn't…"

Goneril sighed. "Go to your room, Cordelia. I need to speak with Lord Gloucester."

"Yes, let's talk Lady Stewart," Gloucester spat.

Obediently, Cordelia let go of Goneril. She gave a small bow to Gloucester, and began quickly walked from the room. The door shut behind her with a thud.

Cordelia half ran down the hallway before doubling back, steps careful and quiet on the return trip. She kneeled.

Beyond the thick oak door, Goneril still spoke too softly for anything more than a muffled murmur to reach Cordelia, but Gloucester's angered shouts were just barely audible with Cordelia's ear pressed against the door.

"--you! We talk now! Not later. Do you have _any_ idea how you've ruined me?! Don't give me that you had no choice bullshit!"

Indistinct muttering from Goneril. Cordelia's heartbeat thudded in her ears, and the same thought echoed with each beat.

_Prove me wrong. Prove me wrong._

"Don't tell me to be quiet. You fucking bitch, you told me that girl was the one suspicious of me, but _you_ sold me out! _You_ fix this. That girl listens to you, tell her to take the deal!"

_Prove me wrong. Prove me wrong._

This time Goneril's words broke through the door as she raised her voice to push back against Gloucester. "What do you expect me to do? Cordelia isn't as stupid as you seem to think she is."

Unexpectedly, Gloucester's voice dropped in volume. Cordelia couldn't hear anything. Time stretched, drawing her nerves taut.

"Are you mad?!" Cordelia took at a sharp breath at Goneril's sudden outburst. "She's a _child_!"

Gloucester let out a booming laugh. "What should that have to do with it? If you'd poison an old man, why quibble over a child?"

"Don't you dare suggest--"

"This is what you Ravuses do, isn't it? So do it! Don't act like a damn saint and paint all of us the villains to keep it up. It's _disgusting_ watching your little show. You want this fortune as much as the rest of us!"

"Not everyone wants to act like a buffoon to get it, Edmund! Because that's all you've been doing! Acting like an idiot!"

Cordelia was glad she was already kneeling on the floor, because suddenly the world seemed out of balance, spinning and out of control. She fisted her fingers into the carpet in an attempt to orient herself, but that did nothing to stop the spinning. Her head fell sideways and her forehead landed against the door with a thud.

The arguing stopped instantly, and before Cordelia could react properly, the door was pulled open. She stared at Goneril's feet.

Cordelia lifted her gaze halfway, and saw Gloucester in the background, once again looking like a goldfish with his red face and his silently moving lips. She lifted her gaze further, and Aunt Goneril's gaze met hers, a stony expression Cordelia had never seen before on her face. There was no warmth coloring Goneril, just cold marble with frozen features.

Cordelia stood slowly, and Goneril remained unmoving. Cordelia could see the white knuckle grip Goneril kept on the door.

"Get out."

She supposed she must've looked like hell, because Goneril showed the first crack of fear. "Cordelia, let me explain--"

"Get out!" The sound clawed her throat, rung off the walls, and made Goneril flinch. "Guards!!"

Gloucester pushed Goneril out of the way. "I told you this has gone on long enough!" He reached for Cordelia, a crazed sort of desperation in his eyes. Cordelia glared back into them.

An arm reached out to yank him back and put him in a restraining hold. "This _has_ gone on long enough, Lord Gloucester," Heathcote said.

Gloucester squirmed, but Heathcote's grip was tight. Just down the hallway, several guards were already approaching.

Cordelia wasn't sure when the guards lead Gloucester away, she was too engrossed by Goneril. None of her pleas reached Cordelia's ears, but all of her expressions seemed to move in slow motion with a clarity that Cordelia hadn't thought possible.

They were so filled with warmth. So concerned. So hurt by Cordelia's lack of faith.

And writhing underneath that surface was the ugliest thing that Cordelia had ever seen.

 

* * *

 

Both were handed off to the city guard, but as expected, there wasn't anything concrete to hold Goneril with. She barely had to put anything into her bribe to escape seeing even a second of the jail cell.

Gloucester could be held for attempted assault, but he paid the guards off easily enough. Or so Cordelia assumed. Perhaps it was worse than she thought, since he ended up ruining himself by the end of the year.

 

* * *

 

Cordelia stared at her meal. It had been awhile since she last ate. She should eat.

Lord Gloucester had said that Aunt Goneril poisoned an old man.

The cook had put plenty of effort into the meal. She should eat.

She had put a little effort into digging and the rumors popped up without much difficulty. In retrospect, it was incredible that she had never heard them before, even if they were rumors from over twenty years ago.

The food was beginning to grow cold. The steam that had been rising from the soup was now a weak wisp. She should eat.

Twenty-two years ago, her grandfather passed away from illness. It had been a slow, dragged out affair as his organs failed, liquidized, and his body became a hollow husk.

Cordelia brought a spoon to her mouth.

Two months later, her uncle was murdered in his sleep. Then the following week, one of her aunts. That was when the rumors whirled in full force. Her grandfather had been in hale health, it was impossible for him to fall ill so quickly unless he had been poisoned. It was all just a fight for the treasures of House Ravus. In the end, Aunt Goneril had bowed out by marrying into the Stewart family, leaving her father the victor.

But it was clear now that she hadn't bowed out at all.

The soup tasted bitter on Cordelia's tongue.

She gagged and liquid dribbled out of her mouth. Hastily, she wiped her mouth and pushed away from the table.

The door out of the dining room opened and Cordelia slipped out. She should eat. Aunt Goneril wasn't here. And yet....

"--just walking around in circles at dawn!"

Cordelia froze. Two maids were around the corner, speaking to each other in a breathy tone that tried to be hush, but was too excited to keep down.

"I saw her pacing once when I left for the night. Back and forth, back and forth...you think she does that all night?"

One of the maids snorted. "Wouldn't be surprised if she did. The girl's gone completely _mad..._ "

Perhaps they were right.  But perhaps mad was good. Mad meant that they didn't think she was competent enough to kill. And that was good, wasn't it?

 

* * *

 

_...so sad! I cried for a good ten minutes after I finished reading. Gil said I was utterly inconsolable, but really, the ending you wrote was incredible. I don't know how you do it, Cordelia._

Cordelia let out a small laugh. Noa's stories were always filled with fun, a sense of adventure that swept her into a world of magic. She was the one who didn't know how Noa could do it. At times, Cordelia felt a bit guilty she couldn't write something better for Noa, but her attempts at imitating Noa's stories always rang hollow. Fake.

_Also, in addition to my own final installment, I've included a picture with this letter. A very reputable portrait artist came by. Father wants to keep the full painting for home, but I managed to get a pen sketch to send you. The likeness is quite accurate in my opinion. Send me a picture back if you can! I don't want to be too shocked the next time I see you._

For the first time, Cordelia noticed another piece of paper between Noa's letter and her story. As Noa had said, it was a cheap pen sketch that could be folded away without worry, but the details were all there.

Noa looked happy in the portrait, beaming with a smile like sunshine. Her hair was no longer in the pigtails and her face had lost much of the childish roundness that Cordelia remembered. With a start, Cordelia realized that it had already been five years since she last saw Noa.

_Send me a picture back if you can!_

Slowly, Cordelia lifted her head from the letter to the mirror attached to her desk.

Her reflection stared back at her from between a curtain of hair, face peaked and pale. Dark bags weighed heavily, dimming the already dull light in her eyes. There was nothing there, except a sort of tension like a rabbit ready to run. Something about it made her feel guilty, as if the Cordelia in the mirror was accusing her.

She looked away.

It was probably better to let Noa keep whatever image she had before.

There was a knock at the door, and Cordelia jolted, shoulders hunching inwards and hands flying to her chest.

"M'lady? May I enter?"

Cordelia took a deep breath and straightened her posture. "Yes."

With a click, the door opened, and Heathcote took just a step in.

"What is it?" Cordelia asked.

"You refused to see Lady Regan today," Heathcote said. Cordelia bit at the inside of her lip and her straightened posture bended. "She was quite disappointed when she left." A pause. "Why?"

"I get a bad feeling about her," Cordelia muttered.

She heard Heathcote sigh. "We've checked her multiple times. None of her past proposals have--"

"I know!" Her hands clenched into fists. "I know, but I don't trust her."

"Then what about the merchant from Riverford? Or Lord Kent?" Heathcote said, frustration seeping through. Their faces flashed through Cordelia's mind, each twisted and laughing at her.  "You've refused to see anyone, but that's not--"

"If the problem is money, then sell something!" she shouted.

There was a long silence.

"M'lady, please." Heathcote's voice was gentle. "Trust me. I've done everything I could to ensure that their proposals won't harm this household."

Hesitantly, Cordelia looked at Heathcote. He was tired too, and suddenly she remembered him sitting at her bedside all those years ago. He had looked weighed down and worn out, but had still sat there patiently until she fell asleep.

This was who he had always been. Heathcote couldn't be what Goneril said he was. Goneril lied. Goneril must have lied.

Cordelia's heart thudded with excitement. Heathcote was on her side. He had to be.

"I know you're doing your best, but…" Cordelia swallowed nervously. "Heathcote?"

He blinked. "What is it?"

"I want to be more involved. When you meet with an informant, can I be there?"

Heathcote paled, and Cordelia's excitement faded with the blood from his face. "I-I don't think that is advisable, m'lady. You already have so much on your mind…"

"What does that matter?" Cordelia said. "You tell me everything important, don't you? Isn't it all the same if I hear it directly?"

His jaw clenched tightly as he struggled to collect himself. "I'm simply worried that it would be too much for you, that's all."

"I know you don't want to worry me, but I don't want to not know anymore!" Cordelia plead. "I don't want to find out too late--"

"No!"

Whatever Cordelia wanted to say next never came out. Heathcote looked slightly surprised at his own outburst, and the fierce expression on his face had faded in an instant.

But Cordelia had seen it. He looked like Goneril did then, when she had seen Cordelia at the doorway. Cordelia had overheard something that should have remained hidden, and Heathcote had looked as though he feared she would do the same.

 

* * *

 

Heathcote didn't bring up the matter of her meeting with people again, and in turn Cordelia didn't ask to meet the informants. The tension had grown worse, and Cordelia was grateful to see less of him.

That gratitude meant that for awhile, Cordelia didn't think it strange when a few days passed without seeing Heathcote. Eventually, she realized that he had begun to take trips away from the manor more frequently, and at the same time, fewer came to the manor.

He had moved his informants' meetings outside of the manor.

The weeks passed. Nothing changed. Not a single lead on the dragonstones appeared, or if they did, Heathcote neglected to tell her.

She stared at her books. At her parent's journals. At Noa's letters.

Nothing stuck. Words slipped and fell away before she could understand them. Time passed in a dull blur.

Vaguely, she realized that Ravus fortune was dwindling to nothing. Fewer and fewer servants arrived for work in the morning to minimize the rate that the remaining money would be spent. She wondered if it was finally time to sell the manor, but there would be no point. The Cliftlands were relatively undeveloped and not attractive as a home to the wealthy at large. The manor would sit empty and unwanted until it fell apart.

Useless. Pointless.

She often thought about what her parents would think, if they could see her now.

It was said that souls too weighed down by the world of the living would never be able to cross the darkness that existed between the world of the living and the afterworld. The more prayers they received, the more they would be unburdened by all that tied them down in life.

But the prayers her parents received were all fake. Aelfric had lied. In their time of need, no one had arrived. They were likely trapped in the darkness of the between, watching her bring House Ravus to its ruin. Maybe they even hated her.

Cordelia curled up with a shudder.

A Ravus only existed to protect the dragonstones. There were no dragonstones left, so then why did she still exist?

 

* * *

 

Only one of Heathcote's appointments away from the manor occurred with consistency.

At the ides of every month, Heathcote would slip out in the dead of night, dressed in plain clothes that were just a step or two above rags. She was so accustomed to seeing him in his usual fineries that at first, she failed to realize that it was Heathcote. Cordelia didn't even know he had clothes like that.

He would always return before dawn. Wherever he went, it was somewhere within the vicinity of Bolderfall.

Initially, she had planned to search his study while he was away to glean his location of the his monthly meeting, but Heathcote had taken a habit of burning any messages that he received. Unlike her father, he didn't seem to keep a journal either, or if he did, she could not find it.

She had almost despaired, but the answer came to her in the form of gossip. One of the maids had seen him at the tavern in lower Bolderfall.

"I suppose even that old stiff needs to let loose sometimes," the maid had said with a laugh.

The next day, Cordelia stole a maid's uniform. Clumsily, she removed the frills and shortened it to fit her. Of all her lessons, Cordelia had neglected her embroidery the most. She pricked herself so many times with the sewing needle that thick scars formed on her fingertips. The end result looked messy, held together by large, uneven seams. Nothing like the precise stitches of her usual clothes.

But she had made it herself. It would do.

When the meeting day came, she had even less of an appetite than usual that evening at dinner. Nerves twisted in her gut. What if she was wrong? What if he wasn't going to leave the manor tonight?

Cordelia took a deep breath. She would simply have to chance it.

She screamed.

Immediately, the door opened with a bang and a maid rushed in.

"Lady Ravus, what--"

Cordelia made a frantic scramble from her chair to the maid. She twisted her hands into the maid's skirt. "Call the guards! Call the guards!"

"The guards?!" The maid's eyes darted around the room, brows furrowing after she saw nothing to note. "Lady Ravus, I don't see--"

Cordelia tugged at the skirt, jolting the maid forward. "There was someone here! Quickly! Call the guards!"

"A-alright…" The maid pushed at Cordelia, hoping to disentangle herself, but Cordelia tightened her grip.

"GUARDS!" Cordelia shrieked. The maid flinched.

A few moments later, a very confused guard ran into the room brandishing a spear. His face was slightly pale, and Cordelia felt slightly guilty for giving him a fright. A new recruit, she supposed. "Wh-what is it?" he stuttered.

"Err, it seems Lady Ravus thought she saw someone--"

"I did see someone!" Cordelia cried, jutting a finger towards a far wall. "They were in here! Just watching me eat from the hole in the wall! They kept laughing--poison. They poisoned it. They poisoned the food! Th-that's why they were laughing, they--"

The maid's face was twitching as she struggled to maintain a neutral expression, but Cordelia could see the quiver at the corners of her lips that threatened to turn it into a disgusted grimace. "Lady Ravus, I assure you, that no one poisoned your meal."

"No I saw them! They were in the wall!"

By now, the nervous guard had made his way over the wall Cordelia had pointed at. He knocked on the wall. "I...I don't believe there's anything that could fit in here…"

"I know what I saw! There was someone here! And then they went into the wall and disappeared!" From the corner of her eye, she noticed Heathcote in the doorway, watching the scene before him with a blank expression. His body was held stiffly, so much so that she thought she could see him tremoring. Cordelia ran to him. "Heathcote! Make the guards stay inside the manor tonight! There was someone there, you have to believe me!"

Heathcote blinked. Cordelia watched his adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed his silence and prepared to speak. "Of course, m'lady."

She allowed herself to be soothed and lead back to her room. He gave her a pained sort of smile as he shut the door, promising yet again that he would ensure that the guards stayed in the manor that night.

As the moon rose high, Cordelia watched him leave the manor. She slipped on the old maid's dress, and quietly climbed out the window.

With the majority of the guards inside the manor, the grounds were much emptier than usual. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears, but even if it had sounded as loud in reality, there was no one around to hear it. Only a few guards had been left at the front entrance. The walls were unwatched.

Using some ivy as footholds, she clambered over the wall. For a moment, she thought that someone would find her the moment she landed on the other side.

But, that didn't happen. Cordelia ran.

The path to Bolderfall was different at night. The silence of the manor echoed, but here in the open the silence filled the air and became whisperings of creatures that lurked in the darkness.

Fear seeped in as she briefly wondered what would happen if she was found, but Cordelia continued to run.

A Ravus existed to guard the dragonstones, or perish in the attempt.

She could no longer do the first, but at the very least, she could still fulfill the latter.

 

* * *

 

Despite being the largest settlement in the Cliftlands, Bolderfall was little more than a town compared to the cities of other regions. She had never made her way to the tavern in lower Bolderfall, but even from the rickety stairs that ran down the cliffside, the tavern was easy to spot. It was by far the most brightly lit structure in lower Bolderfall where few could afford to burn midnight oil for lamps. Like moths to a flame, all those who walked the night would find their way to the tavern.

As she half-walked half-ran, Cordelia felt eyes on her. She ignored it, focus narrowed onto the tavern. Even in the dead of night, she could hear a low buzz of activity as she approached.

She peeked through a window into the tavern and scanned the room.

The bartender was pouring a drink for a man who's head had already hit the table. A small group of men and women were in the center of the room playing cards. Two men were loudly shouting with increasing vigor as they downed another shot of amber liquid. A woman had slammed a man's face against the far wall. Another man leaned back in his chair, watching it happen.

Cordelia did a double take.

Heathcote. He held himself differently than he did in the manor. There he was straight backed and held stiffly enough that Cordelia was certain she could balance a book and full tea cup on top of his head. Now he had lazily draped himself over a rickety chair half tipped back, face passive as he watched the woman knee a man in his stomach before letting him go.

She forced herself to move.

Cordelia circled around to the other side of the building. The tavern was a ramshackle affair built of old, half rotted wood that looked like it had been torn off of the cliffside stairs once they had been deemed to poor for use. Heathcote was sitting at a far wall, not particularly close to any windows, but the gaps between the boards left little unheard.

"Well that's that," Cordelia heard a woman say happily.

"I would've preferred to meet somewhere more private." Heathcote.

"Oh, that costs extra."

Heathcote snorted derisively. "Viper would've never been so sloppy."

"Don't live in the past so much. You should be grateful I'm doing this at all. This is supposed to be private information…"

"Oh, now you worry about privacy?"

"Even _we_ have some honor," the woman said with mock hurt. "It pains me to break such trust between provider and seller--"

"We've already made a deal. Hand it over."

The woman clicked her tongue. "You're lucky the old man like you, Heathcote."

A silence followed. Cordelia tried to peek between the boards into the room, but all she could see was Heathcote's back.

"...what are you looking so unhappy about?" the woman said. "I've got everything. Even got the going prices for items. If you're looking to buy--"

"I'm not looking to buy any of this."

"Oh! You're selling then?" Her voice several pitches in excitement. "I knew you had some good stuff on you from that fancy mansion of yours."

"Here."

"Oh, very nice!" the woman cooed. "This clarity...my this is fine glass from the islands. Gods, I heard that the Ravus family was finished, but the scraps are still more than worth picking at."

Cordelia bit her lip, willing herself to remain quiet. Her fingers curled against the wood grained wall, but the boisterous noise from within the tavern covered any sound that made.

"What else you got on you?"

"That's all I brought," Heathcote said.

"Don't be so stingy. Come on now, the old man used to say that you had hordes of treasures to put on the market, and that was just from short cons. You've already stayed with this family for years, surely you've got more than this on you--"

The first time Cordelia had discovered a betrayal, the room had spun and she felt something in her shift. That time with Aunt Goneril, the world itself had twisted and an ugly rage she didn't even know she had filled her.

Now, Cordelia didn't feel anything. She had expected this. That was why there was no shock or pain. Everything that she could've felt had already quietly slipped out of her. She stared at the ground, wondering mildly what she should do next. But like a puppet with strings cut, she couldn't muster the will to do anything.

Someone grabbed her from behind by her arm. Cordelia gave no resistance as the person hauled her to her feet and began to drag her away. The man who was dragging her had strides much longer than her own. She stumbled but the man kept walking, and Cordelia meekly fell into step.

"Oh? What a good kid," the man said. "Just stay like that and there'll be no trouble for either of us." He stopped at the tavern's doorway and shouted in. "Oi! Time to go!"

One of the men who had been in drinking contest with another clapped his competitor on the back and teetered towards the exit.

"Hurry up!" the man holding Cordelia shouted.

The drunk man giggled, steps zigzagging. "I'm walking _very_ fast."

"Like hell you are."

A chair skidded. Loud steps, each in quick succession. The drunk man was shoved to the ground. The group that was playing cards stopped.

"Where are you going with that child?"

Heathcote stood at the tavern's door, teeth bared in a half snarl and eyes ablaze with an anger that cut through Cordelia's haze. She blinked.

The man holding her laughed. "This is my daughter. We're going home."

Cordelia blinked again. She was in Bolderfall. She was about to be taken away.

The haze cleared. Only one thought remained.

Cordelia scratched the man's hand. He yelped, and his already unguarded grip loosened even more.

"Why you--"

Cordelia twisted away and ran into the tavern. Heathcote stepped between her and the man.

"Stay out of this, old man," the man said. "Just a family spat--"

"Like hell it is."

The man gulped. Eyes darted from Cordelia, to Heathcote, to his drunk friend still lying on the floor in a daze. He ran.

A flash of silver flew and the man suddenly collapsed on the ground, howling in pain. In the moonlight, Cordelia could see a small knife stabbed into his leg.

"A human trafficker of all things." Cordelia turned and saw the woman that had been speaking to Heathcote standing next her. "Marta's really losing her grip on this town."

"E-e-excuse me." The bartender had made his way over. "Sh-should I call the guards?"

The woman grinned. "No need. Marta would _love_ to talk to him." Her gaze slipped to Heathcote and Cordelia. "Well then, I'll see you next month, Heathcote. _I_ for one, would rather not be involved in family spats."

 

* * *

 

"What. Were. You. _Thinking_?!"

Cordelia stared.

"No, no, no you weren't thinking at all. If you were, you wouldn't have gone there alone. How _stupid_ can you be? Lower Bolderfall isn't the manor, you don't need to live there to know that. Even a little common sense would be enough to tell you stay away from the tavern at night!"

Heathcote's face was red, boiling over with rage. She could not remember seeing him so angry, or even that intense otherwise. His voice echoed off the manor walls, ringing with a force he never used.

"You could've gotten yourself killed! You almost _did_ get yourself kidnapped--"

His face was so filled with concern under that rage. Cordelia felt disgusted.

"What does it matter?"

Heathcote's yelling came to a hard stop. "What are you--"

"You're a thief aren't you? Isn't it easier for you if I'm gone?"

The color faded from his face. "How did you…" Heathcote closed his eyes, a tremor running through his jaw. "Goneril told you."

She didn't even realize that a small part of her was still hoping he'd deny it until a bitter laugh escaped from her. "So it's true then? You came to steal from this manor?"

Heathcote turned away.

Cordelia laughed again, high and shrill. She laughed with her head thrown back, and it rang coldly through the room. "Well go ahead then! Take it! How about the painting in the hall? The necklace my mother wore?" A sob pushed painfully against her throat, but she couldn't cry. Not now. "Go on! You can steal as much as you like, because there's _nothing_ _left_!"

"There's _everything_ left!" Heathcote shouted, attention snapping back to Cordelia.

Cordelia shoulders shook from silent laughter. " _Everything_? What's left? The dragonstones are already gone! It's already been picked at by friends and family, if you want to clean the scraps, go ahead!"

Panic flashed in Heathcotes eyes. He leapt forward, grasping Cordelia's shoulders. "Yes, yes, I was a thief. I did come here to rob the manor a long time ago, but that's not why I'm here _now_ . When your father caught me, he didn't tell me to protect the dragonstones. He didn't tell me to protect the Ravus fortune. He told me to protect _you_."

Cordelia cringed, hands flying up to her head. "Then he chose wrong!"

All his energy seemed to leave Heathcote. His shoulders dropped, and the stern lines of his face gave way to tired exhaustion. Even his movements slowed to a crawl as his head feebly shook back and forth. "He chose _right_ , Cordelia."

His head drooped, and Cordelia was left staring at the crown of his head.

When he lifted it again to meet Cordelia's eyes, he had pulled his expression together into something resembling calm. "I once told someone that I loved them. She laughed in my face. She said that if I had loved her, then I would've just said so in the first place instead of betting on her household treasure. All I knew how to love was things. And she was right."

"What does this have to do with--"

"When I came to rob the Ravus family that day, it had been just a year after your aunt and uncle were murdered. Everyone said that the family was finished soon with all those who were after them. That it would be a simple matter to come and pick the carcass. But I didn't just aim for scraps. I wanted to steal the dragonstones."

Cordelia's heart skipped a beat. She moved to get away, but Heathcote pulled her back.

"Wait. Please let me finish," Heathcote said. "I was caught, as I'm sure Goneril told you. I had thought I was so clever, getting through all those traps and defenses. Only to be caught at the very end by your father. I was tossed in the dungeon by the guards. I thought that would be the end of my career. There were rumors that your father had been behind the murders after all. But after a few days, he came to see me again."

"He was impressed. He wanted me to work for him. I agreed just to escape."

"But that night, he told me I was free to leave. I couldn't understand at all. I thought he had wanted me to guard the Ravus treasures. What _else_ could he have wanted?"

"He laughed at me and said that my job didn't exist yet. The Ravus family was a mess. He felt that _he_ had left it a mess. He thought he would likely be killed himself one day. At the very least, he wanted to leave his child someone to help them once that came to pass. But that child had yet to be born, and I was free to go until that time."

"It didn't make any sense to me. I had already gotten through all of the manor's defenses once, and I could see through the final trap. If I tried again, I would have stolen the dragonstones. He just told me that if I didn't return, then it simply meant I wasn't worth trusting."

"Cordelia, what your father treasured was never the dragonstones. He treasured _you_. He treasured you so much he was willing to bet on a thief who wanted to steal the dragonstones."

Heathcotes hands dropped from Cordelia's shoulders, but she stayed rooted in place. Her eyes stung, and the room was beginning to blur like a mosaic. "Th-that's not right," she protested. "House Ravus only exists because we need to guard the dragonstones. He had no reason--"

"I didn't understand at the time either," Heathcote said. "His own father was killed by his children, and yet your father still chose you. But that's why I returned. I didn't choose to come back because of blackmail or shame. Even if I did, I would not have given my loyalty to man who only loved his fortune. That had been _me_ all my life, and I wanted to know how it could be otherwise."

"And maybe...maybe after all these years, I understand it a little. Things can be owned, but it's useless to put your faith in them. When things are lost, in your time of need, the ones that offer hope are the people that you've put your faith in. House Ravus began with the dragonstones, but it only continues because of the people who have inherited the duty to guard them. They are lost now, but they can always return as long as those who survive have the will to retrieve them."

"But, I didn't understand it enough." Heathcote closed a hand over Cordelia's. "For these past five years, I kept thinking that it would be fine as long as I found the dragonstones. I was terrified of you learning of all that ills House Ravus, of you discovering who I was. Even years before you were born, your father already placed his hopes in you, but I failed to offer you the same faith. And in the end, I left you to discover everything on your own."

He bowed his head. "I'm sorry. I should have believed in you, and I will now. So please, you have to trust me."

Heathcote waited for an answer, but it would never come that night. Cordelia remembered the room blurring around her as if she was peering into it through frosted glass. Tears that wouldn't stop overflowing, and sobs that wouldn't let her get a word out.

And then in the morning, the sunlight shined more warmly than she could remember in years.

 

* * *

 

A few weeks later, Heathcote called her into the drawing room. The woman from the tavern was sitting on a couch with her tea cup held high, turning it this way and that.

"Oh, and so the little princess arrives," the woman said when she caught sight of Cordelia. "Settled everything with this grandfather of yours?"

"Boa…" Heathcote said, exasperated.

Cordelia gave her a shy smile. "Yes."

Heathcote reintroduced the woman. She was one of the main middle-men between thieves and the black market in Wellspring. Her predecessor had been a close associate of Heathcote's back in the day. Each month, she would bring a list of the goods being sold in the black market in return for payment.

Boa didn't know why Heathcote wanted the list, and she didn't ask. Despite how she acted, Heathcote said that she knew how to keep her mouth shut when it counted.

From then on, whenever Heathcote met with an informant, Cordelia was there. Slowly, she began to realize the scope of what Heathcote handled.

The leads to follow were an enormous web that Cordelia could not see the end of.

In some ways, it overwhelmed her knowing just how many could have orchestrated the theft, and just how many knew exactly what the dragonstones could be used for. Thieves guilds, cults, brigands...the murder of Lord Azelhart that had frightened her all those years ago was only the very tip of the iceberg.

She caught Heathcote's worried stare at times during those meetings, but he never asked her if she wanted to leave. And oddly, she felt lighter than before.

He was placing his faith in her, so at the very least she could squash her fears, and face those who came to House Ravus with a smile.

 

* * *

 

The day that Cordelia turned fourteen was a quiet affair. She had forgotten about it until Heathcote had brought her the sweetcake as she was reading through a letter from Lady Regan.

It was an odd feeling, realizing that she had now lived as many years without her parents as she had with them.

"Why don't you visit Grandport?"

Cordelia stopped eating. "Grandport?"

"Hasn't Miss Wyndham asked for you to see her for years now?" Heathcote said. "Nothing immediate needs to be done, and the manor can run for at least a month or two without you."

"I-I wouldn't have anywhere to stay," Cordelia said. It felt wrong to go to Grandport, as if doing so would break something.

"Miss Wyndham would be happy to let you stay with her." Heathcote reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a letter. "She wrote to me, you know. Asked me to convince you to go, and well...I think this is a good time."

 

* * *

 

The sunshine in Grandport was as bright as she remembered. The salt breeze so unlike the dry, dusty wind that blew through Bolderfall.

She had loved it back then. Loved the ocean that stretched out to infinity. Loved the sun that glistened on the waters. Loved the little cottage that was filled with a warmth the manor never had.

Loved seeing her father away from his desk. Loved having her mother accompany her to the beaches. Loved having her parents to herself for once.

The carriage clacked by the road that lead to the summerhome without slowing down.

Cordelia stuck her head out the window to watch the little cottage fade into the distance.

Now only half of what she loved remained.

 

* * *

 

Cordelia felt Noa before she saw her. She had barely stepped out of the carriage when Noa had thrown her arms around her neck.

"You're here! You're really here!" After giving Cordelia a squeeze, Noa stepped back. "Oh, you've cut your hair short! I've been growing mine out…"

Compared to the sketch she had sent two years ago, Noa was thinner, and her golden hair wispy as spider's threads. Her eyes glistened in a way that a sketch failed to capture, and her smile was so bright Cordelia felt the corners of her mouth twitch upwards.

"It looks nice," Cordelia said.

"Ah, I'll show you to your room!" Noa's smile turned sheepish. "I didn't know what you wanted at all, so I kept putting more things inside of it. It's a bit of a mess..." She hooked her arm through Cordelia's and Cordelia let herself be guided away.

Their pace was slow and Gil long reached Cordelia's room with her luggage before them. True to Noa's word, the room was cluttered with stuffed animals and soft pillows. A delicate sweet scent filled the air from clusters of blue flowers that piled around the room.

"Quatrait blossoms from the south," Noa said. "A merchant brought them a few summers ago, and I begged father to buy some seeds. Have you ever smelled something so nice? It took awhile to figure out how to make them grow, but we finally had some blooms this year, so I was a little excited...do you think it's too much?"

"No, they're lovely…"

Noa beamed.

There was a knock on a door before it opened and Gil stepped in. "Excuse me, miss, but they're waiting in your room."

"Oh, I almost forgot! I'll be back soon, Cordelia!" Noa stood and began to walk towards Gil. For the first time, Cordelia noticed how slowly walked Noa by herself, as if she had to rebalance herself with each step. Her right leg seemed to drag slightly and stayed stiffly straight.

After an hour, Noa had yet to return. A maid guided Cordelia to Noa's room. The doors were still shut tight and Noa's father paced back and forth in front of the door.

"Lady Ravus," he said. "How was your journey from Bolderfall?"

"It was without trouble. Umm…" Cordelia's gaze shifted to the shut door. "Is Noa in there?"

"Yes, it's taking a bit longer than expected today, but it's just a routine checkup," he said. A smile stretched across his face in an attempt to be reassuring but it looked too nervous to do be so. "Noa has been excited for your visit. It was all she would talk about for weeks."

"Ah, no, I'm grateful for your hospitality--"

The door clicked open. Aston Wyndham turned towards the sound immediately and rushed towards the apothecary that stepped out. "I-is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes," the apothecary said. "I just had to adjust the dosage a bit. Apologies for the rush, but I must be on my way. I'm late to my next appointment. I'll be by the same time next week."

Noa exited the room not long after. Her face flushed when she saw Cordelia standing with her father. "What are you doing here?! Ah...wait...no…" She buried her face in her hands. "I left you waiting for too long didn't I?" Suddenly, her head shot up. "Oh no, it's already so late! Cordelia, we need to go!"

"Huh--?" Without another word, Noa latched on Cordelia's arm and began shuffling her towards the foyer.

 

* * *

 

"Look! Isn't it lovely?" Noa said. "This is my favorite spot in the city."

The harbor spread out below them as they stood on Grandport's central bridge. Ships of sorts of shapes and colors that Cordelia had never seen cluttered the curve of the shoreline. There were the billowing white sails of the galley ships, but there were also stiff fins attached to red-brown vessels, and long narrow boats painted eye-catching colors. Merchants streamed through the docks, little dots scuttling about with uncountable riches in their hands.

The setting sun created a bright path on the water's surface, but outside of that streak, Cordelia could see the first lantern lights flicker on in the ships.

"I'm glad you were with me," said Noa. "I could have never walked here so quickly alone, and then we would've missed sunset and the first lightings. Look! That's one of the merchant ships I mentioned, from the far east."

"What about the one that's all painted up?"

"Oh, that one is from an island to the west. I saw it up close once. It has an amazing number of oars!" Noa continued to look out to the harbor happily, but Cordelia had uneasily turned her attention to Noa.

"Are you...sick?" Cordelia said haltingly.

"Hmm? It's the same illness I've always had. Don't you remember how I always preferred to play the princess in a tower when we were little?"

"I thought you just liked being the princess!"

Noa giggled. "It's not that I liked that role, but it was tiring to move around too much."

"I-I'm sorry…" Cordelia said, flushing. "I never realized…"

"Well, we _were_ only seven. When you're a child, nothing seems _that_ out of the ordinary."

"Still...I'm sorry I didn't know what you were going through."

"It wasn't hard." Noa shrugged. "My father's always been able to hire the best doctors for me. I'm very fortunate."

"Even so…"

Noa's bright smile dimmed and softened with a touch of sadness. "Well...I can't deny that I feel a little frustrated sometimes. Isn't it greedy? I have plenty, but even so I want so much more." Her arms flew out before her, embracing the endless sea. "Look at that, Cordelia! The whole _world_ is out there! I could walk for a hundred years, and I could never see it all. But that's what I want, more than anything. To see the quatraits bloom in the wild. To see the other end of this ocean. I want to see so much more than this corner of the world, but..."

Noa sighed. Cordelia's gaze followed Noa's, but for all its beauty, the view could not bring the same desire that it brought to Noa. "They say you grow stronger as you grow older, don't they? When that time comes, you should come to the Cliftlands. There's no flowers or oceans, but some of the gorges are so deep mist gathers in their abyss. And of course, you could visit me."

"I would think that that's a main feature rather than an afterthought," Noa said with a laugh. A pause. "You _are_ doing better now, aren't you?"

"Eh?" Cordelia's head turned to Noa, who was fidgeting nervously.

"Your letters. You never said much about your situation, but the stories you wrote were always so hopeless. I didn't know how to bring the matter up. It was like father said: sometimes the affairs of other houses is not for outsiders to know. But even so, I was terrified that something awful was happening to you."

Cordelia's mind felt oddly blank. "I'm sorry--"

"You shouldn't be apologizing for that!" Noa cried. "It's not your fault...I was just frustrated with myself. I didn't know what to do. It really wasn't your fault you didn't notice my illness, I didn't want to mention them when you were already had so many troubles. All I could do was write those awful stories." Her face turned redder than the sun and she covered her cheeks with her hands. "They must've seemed so fake…"

Cordelia thought of Noa's stories, each tucked away in the wooden box on her desk. Each well worn by her fingers as she poured over them over and over again. Each filled with a sense of love and optimism that beautified the world with a strength that seemed impossible for her.

Perhaps, after all, they were just as impossible for Noa. But she had created that hope nonetheless. Cordelia's face split into a wide grin. Her eyes watered and the back of her throat had that familiar sting, but even so, the smile felt real.

"No, Noa, they were wonderful."

 

* * *

 

When Cordelia returned to Bolderfall, Heathcote barely allowed her time to get off the carriage before shuffling her to her study and shutting the door behind them.

"We found one of the dragonstones."

Cordelia dropped into a chair. Her heart was pounding against her eardrums, slowly at first, and quickening with each beat. But the frown on Heathcote's face kept her excitement at bay. "Are you certain?"

Heathcote's face remained grim as he nodded. "A merchant boasted about the sale of a sapphire stone to a family in Stonegard. The informant who heard that investigated the family, and managed to convince them to show her. She confirmed that it was the sapphire dragonstone."

"Th-then, let's make an offer!" She bolted up and to her desk, pulling open the drawers to see the ledgers. House Ravus was still a long way from full recovery, but perhaps there would be enough money--

"M'lady, it's no use," Heathcote said. "The informant tried to buy it on the spot, but she was immediately expelled from their manor. I attempted to make an offer on behalf of House Ravus, and they told me that they had no intentions of selling."

"...what of the other stones?"

Heathcote shook his head. "Still no news of them. The informant questioned the merchant who sold it, but he merely said that he had found it thrown on the roadside as he was travelling."

"Thrown...on the _roadside_?" Cordelia gaped. "Then, we still don't know--"

"Who the original thief was," Heathcote finished. "No. Furthermore, the merchant had only found one of the stones."

The theft. Hornburg's fall. The threads between them twisted into a familiar knot of dread.

"Whoever stole them in the first place had no intentions of selling them," Cordelia said. "They wanted to _use_ them...and whatever they wanted them for, they've already finished."

"...we don't know that, m'lady."

"No, they've spent all these years hiding the stone's whereabouts. The stones disappeared, and not a single hint of where they went. It didn't go through black markets or merchants, it simply stayed in their hands. They only wanted to use them, and then dispose of them. They didn't even care about money, otherwise their disposal would've been through a sale...but they didn't."

Cordelia gritted her teeth. "I don't think the other stones will be found near Stonegard. Whoever that thief was has no intentions of leaving a trail. The other stones will be left at different locations, and we won't be able to catch wind of them until it passes hands to a merchant or be announced by some family who wants to show it off."

"Then perhaps, we can learn something from this thief," said Heathcote.

"What do you mean?" Cordelia asked, tilting her head.

"In the past, many have attempted to steal from House Ravus because they knew it had something worth stealing. In recent years, the thefts have decreased greatly."

"Because there's not much left to steal…"

"The first Ravus was given a new name, forced to go to a new land, all so that the stones could disappear from those who sought them," Heathcote continued. "It wasn't until it was discovered that House Ravus had them that their seekers began plotting against your family. Their theft from this manor might've provided a good chance to wipe the slate clean."

"Rather than making a traceable deal," Cordelia said slowly, "we make them disappear again."

"Yes. I think we should steal them back."

 

* * *

 

Heathcote had laughed before he left. He had come to House Ravus to steal the dragonstones, and now he was stealing them again to return them. She had tried to smile at his amusement, but she hadn't been able to. There were too many things that could go wrong…

He had simply patted her arm. He would return within the month, if everything was successful. And then...then he had quietly slipped away from the manor.

A few weeks later, news reached Cordelia that the family in Stonegard had thrown a fit, crying that they had been robbed.

Two months later, Heathcote had yet to return.

It was like she was twelve again, choked by anxiety and forced into silence so all she could do was wander the halls with her mind spinning in useless circles.

They had agreed that the fewer that knew they were planning to steal the dragonstones, the better. This was all to make them disappear again. She couldn't breathe a word of this to anyone. Her task was simple, compared to Heathcote's.

Swallow her words and act normal. Wait.

Wait while Heathcote might be dead in a ditch, never to return.

Wait while Heathcote was being held in a dungeon, never to see again see the light of day.

What if she could still help him, if she told someone? But she had never interacted with the informant network without Heathcote. Who could she trust--

There was a knock at her door.

Cordelia bolted upright in her bed. "Y-yes?"

"M'lady, I've returned."

Her blankets went flying and she almost slipped on the floor as she ran to the door. In her overexcited haze, the handle took some fumbling before she could throw the door open.

Heathcote stood there, a single hand held out. The sapphire stone shined bright even in the darkness.

Cordelia ignored it to throw her arms around Heathcote, desperately trying to keep back sobs of relief.

The hand that held the stone patted her back. "I apologize for taking so long," Heathcote said. "I ran into some trouble."

Cordelia drew back and looked at Heathcote's other arm. His jacket was draped over his left shoulder, and the arm hung limply at his side. Heathcote's face was thinner than she remembered, paler as well.

"Don't look like that," Heathcote said. He gave her the sapphire stone and closed her hands over it. "I'm alive, and the sapphire dragonstone has returned."

"...what happened?"

"Old age, that's all." Heathcote laughed softly. "Never thought the day would come, but, I am sixty-three. I suppose it shouldn't be a shock that my body won't move like it use to. But you need not worry. My identity was not discovered."

"That's not the problem!" Cordelia cried. Her voice hitched at the end as she lowered it back to a quiet volume. "What happened to _you_?"

Heathcote sighed. "It was a sloppy job on my part. I was seen by some guards and they managed to injure me as I escaped. I needed to take some time to recover before returning, but I assure you, I'm in no danger. However…" Shamed filled his face. "This arm...won't move like it did before."

"Y-you can't try steal again," Cordelia said. "We can try to buy them--"

"There's no guarantee that they'll sell m'lady," Heathcote retorted. "I saw them you know. The ones who owned it. They were _desperate_ to have it."

Cordelia stared at the sapphire stone in her hands. Whatever reasoning she may have, wasn't she also desperate to have it? For a moment, she wanted to throw it to the ground and say that they should just let them keep the stones.

The original thief had already succeeded in doing what they wanted. Perhaps they had even thrown open the Gate of Finis, and the world hadn't collapsed yet.

And yet…

What if they hadn't?

Or even if they had, what if the stones fell into foul hands? They could do more than just open the Gate of Finis.

House Ravus had been entrusted to guard the dragonstones. To ensure that their powers would never be abused, even by themselves. It was that trust that started the family, that lead them down this path.

Cordelia had no intentions of betraying that promise.

"You won't be able steal again," she said. "You barely could healthy. We find another thief."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I wanted to end this chapter way earlier and just increase the number of chapters this story was going to have. But I wanted to end it on a hopeful note and eventually I hit a point of no return.
> 
> I had a lot more ideas about Heathcote's backstory and Cordelia's parents but well...I just didn't know how to fit it in. Maybe one day.


End file.
